


surreal but nice

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Jaemin as Anna Scott, Jeno as William Thacker, M/M, Notting Hill AU, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeno feels his life spiraling to a surreal twist as the world famous superstar, Jaemin visits his tiny travel bookshop.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	surreal but nice

“Well, we aren’t in any good place either.” Jeno quipped, interrupting Mark’s full on rambled up discourse about the newly opened restaurant down the street. A full crap house, Mark said a while ago, you couldn’t even differentiate between a dodgy turkey and chicken.

“Uh…”Mark hummed, slightly shuffling off the floor, quite sheepish, “Is it worse this month?”

“Yeah, if-” Jeno carded through his ruffled hair, nails scaring the register, “-not affording spontaneous tomato sandwiches and a deficit of 300 pounds counts as worse, then yes. It is worse.”

Mark tightened his lips, unable to articulate words to offer placation to the slumped shouldered Jeno. Of course, they had it worse all months. The travelling bookshop wasn’t the best occupation you could maintain, when most of the population were looking for sci-fi or politics. Not bizarre collection of travelling to the Middle East, or South East for that matter.

Sighing, Mark left his ministrations of scratching the spine of unsold books, and settled on the counter, where Jeno had laid all sorts of registers, and bills to cater to his muddled state of mind. As if Mark had an idea, he clicked his fingers with a soft, “Wait!”

Jeno, eager to learn, scrutinized the furrowed brows of the latter’s visage, as if it was a hard puzzle to solve. Unless, Mark had blurted something awfully foolish.

“How about cappuccino? Would you like one?”

“I don’t know…”Jeno shrugged, returning to his battered register, “If you are eager to fancy one, do get us both a half-and-half. I can’t afford anything more than that.”

“Sure thing!” Mark grabbed his cloak from the hanger, his fingers imitating a salute later, “I’ll be right back!”

Jeno was left in the wallow of his own books, smiling to himself. Mark didn’t want to worry about issues that mattered, which in that case, was the fair lack of money. That lad had a happy-go-lucky attitude, which made it hard for Jeno to tweak with. Jeno founded the bookshop, with Mark, during the late stage of his 2os after he was divorced by his wretched husband. The bookshop was situated at an alley of Notting Hill, with a blue printed banner with bold words, of “Travel Books.” It didn’t garner much attention than Jeno had expected.

After what it seemed like 5 minutes, the door chimed again, and Jeno looked up to see if it was Mark, huddled in his black worn out leather jacket. But it was not. It was although someone entirely different, although wearing a designer leather jacket, a raven cap and tight jeans. You see, Jeno wasn’t an avid spectator of films, or unconventional screenplay but that face, that chiseled face, he could recognize anywhere. It was of course, plastered on buses, newspapers, news and weirdly, plastic wrappers of food. It was Jaemin, newly acclaimed actor from New York, said to set records for the most Grammy wins in a short amount of time. Not that, Jeno knew what it meant, but he considered it to something of highly recognition.

“Hi.” Jeno managed to mutter, finger scratching behind his ears, “Welcome.” He was inevitably tongue-tied, because from the rough 500 people passing by the book shop, one of them did decidedly enter. And that person being a celebrity, which of course made it hard to fathom.

The person, subtly nodded and continued to approach one of the shelves containing books, of lengthy excursions to Istanbul and Egypt. It was one of Jeno’s favourite too, but the collection kept in that shelf was very boring. He deliberated for a while, to whether to say or not that he had a much better suggestion of a book, right on his table. Letting out a heave, he decided to tell anyways.

“Um…”Jaemin looked at him, causing Jeno to forget the exact words he rehearsed in his mind, “…if you are perhaps looking for books in India-not sorry, Istanbul, I have one right here. It has much more-more-bits of-you know-random snippets of the simple life there. Amazing and rather enjoyable anecdotes of something involving a kebab of sorts.”

Jaemin benevolently smiled, and fluttered hands in air before pointing at the shelf.

“I am fine with this. Thank you.” Even his voice was harmonious to Jeno’s ears, and he wondered why he never caught a film with Jaemin starring in it before. But then again, Jeno never had anyone to catch a film with; you might say, that there was Mark, but he was rather into documentary about Chimpanzees. Also, his little brother who was staying at him at the moment at the blue door house, right down the street, was more of a hassle to deal with than to watch a movie with.

Jaemin was someone, as noticed right in front of him,and from the discarded plastic wrappers, an unrealistic projection of natural beauty, an image of fantasy and again someone popping from the impressive cast of God’s finely made humans. Surely, Jeno did not belong in that selective cast, and to him, Jaemin seemed just out of reach for that matter.

“Right.”

Jeno train of thoughts was broken with that simple word announced in that emptied warehouse of books. Jeno quickly brushed away the registers, clearing the table for check-out. Jaemin slipped in the book along the table, to which Jeno reacted frantically, clearing his throat, and scanning the code on the hard-cover. It made him seem like a fledgling cashier, which enticed a chuckle from Jaemin as he watched the nervousness unfold.

“I will include a copy of a book to India, if you don’t mind. Great country. Hot but great.” He rummaged the shelf under his table, and then showed the heavy cover off to Jaemin.

“Signed?”

“Oh.” Jeno checked the black scribble right under the picture of TajMahal, “Right. I was lucky enough to get one right from the writer’s hands. Nice bloke. I managed-”

“Just pack me these. I need to go-”

“Sure. Sure.” Yet, another struggle ensued as Jeno tried to fit the books in a yellow plastic bag, as he kept mentally cursing himself. Jaemin watched Jeno struggle with an ambiguous smile, and Jeno couldn’t figure out if he was making fun of him for being such a foolish clown.

“Thank you.”

“Come again.” It was out of curtsy, and Jeno said to all the few customers that happened to stumble into their bookshop (even to the perverts and thieves).

“I am not sure if I will.” Pretty much, the last words were meant for Jeno, but he decided to ignore it. Celebrities tend to be like that, entitled and self-centered. However just a splint of hope, only a minuscule amount of belief, that perhaps Jaemin wasn’t like that at all.

Just as Jaemin exited from the bookshop, carrying the inkling of fame there were among the loneliness of the books, Mark entered with rather two cups of cold latte.

“Sorry, it’s cold. The blokes there are absolute shit.”

“You have a problem with every person there is, Mark.” Jeno trailed, following the disappearing back of Jaemin among the bustle of the streets of Notting Hill. Mark looked back over his shoulder, curious as to what Jeno was scrutinizing so intensely.

“Did he buy a book?”

“Yes, actually. Finally.”

Jeno gulped the coffee in one-shot, as it was as cold and bland as it could be. Pursing his lips into a thin-line, he disappointingly hummed. He needed something more to celebrate the sell of the first book in two weeks.

“Pretty bad, isn’t it?” Mark commented, his plastic cup thrown in the nearest trash bin. The cup fell directly into the basket, causing Mark to cheer pointlessly.

“You know what?” Jeno quirked his ears for the suggestion Mark was going to chirp in, “Let’s celebrate. It is our first sell in two weeks, and we ought to have a drink for that. Let’s be crazy and say-”

“Orange juice.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s-quite good.” Mark waved his fingers at Jeno, wandering off to the shelf Jaemin was previously standing in, organizing the slanted books.

“I will go get the juice, okay?”

“Okay. Okay. Sod off, now!’

The door shut behind him, as he was faced with the crows surrounding the morning stalls and a couple of moving man, carrying a large mirror. It was a typical scene Jeno met, whenever he exited from the store, and it somehow made his heart warm a bit. You see, Jeno’s friends never reproved of him opening a bookstore, unless eh wanted to soil his mood with some obnoxious college students or pugnacious vendors. Yet, Mark simply fell into Jeno’s spiraling request of helping him with, and there they were.

He wondered, as swung his coat over his shoulder, whether Jaemin too had daily contemplation about his daily antics. Whether one movie was better than the other or whether he should spontaneously enter a very unpopular travelling bookshop. Jeno still couldn't understand why on earth, Jaemin would even consider buying a mundane book about travels.

With his hands hogged by a sandwich and two heavy plastic cups of orange juice, he sauntered down the road, carefully dodging any bumps on his shoulder. He shouldn’t had volunteered for that, he was the worst with balance. The worst. Unfortunately on that note, as he had his eyes stilled on a woman exiting from a salon with blue hued frizzy hair, and wondering how crazy it looked, he didn’t notice the coming person from the other side.

Of course, that person turned out to be Jaemin but with orange juice splashed on his chest.

“Shit. Fucking shit.” Jeno cursed, as he quickly fetched a napkin to wipe the juice off. As he approached Jaemin, he stumbled back with a hiss.

“Keep your hands to yourself. Oh Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jaemin tried to trickle of the juice by gently fluttering the hem of his white tee, but of course that added to nothing. Jeno couldn't believe his temerity to even touch Jaemin and he muttered his apologies in a string.

“I live just over the street.” Jeno stuttered, “If-If-you want my house is just right at the corner, and I can just help you get cleaned up and in no time, you will be spick and span and right out in the streets. In a non-prostitute sense, obviously”

“No. No. I just need to make a call.” Jaemin curved his chest inwards, as he crippled past Jeno.

“I am confident that you will be cleaned up in 5 minutes.” Jeno didn’t even know why he was trying so much.

“Fine.” Jaemin sighed, as he twirled around, “How far is right around the corner? Give it to me in yards.”

“Um, 18 yards.” He pointed over Jaemin shoulders, as the latter followed his direction, “That is my house with the blue front door.”

There it was, the small midget sized blue door, with population hovering and clogging the sight. Jaemin nodded and matched his steps along with Jeno, as he tried his best to divert his eyes on his orange juice soaked shirt. What an umbrage it was, just splashing the juice over someone so famous, Jeno thought to himself as kept on muttering ill-profanities to himself.

The blue door was wrung open, with a whiff of damped cupboards and well, distasteful ramen hit their nostrils, to which Jaemin scrunched his nose. Jeno was embarrassed, of course. With two men living in small, midget sized apartment, owning a fistful of money couldn’t help but live off pests and yes, ramen.

“Come on in.” Jeno said, hastily, as he kicked away a pair of boots, standing out in the porch and a bunch of newspapers. He quickly picked up a stray pizza box and stuffed it in the trash, before he cleared out the way for Jaemin. Was their apartment normally so nasty looking? Jeno thought, because somehow for him, it seemed their apartment had become an imitation of a house of a hobo. He was so embarrassed, so much of it. He went ahead, in the dining room before Jaemin could enter, because he couldn’t imagine how much of haywire state it would be in.

“Right.” Jeno hid some of the remaining ramen box under the dining table, and a pair of torn out gloves behind his back, “Come on in, please.”

Jaemin looked at him impassively, to which Jeno nervously bit his lips, scratching behind the ears.

“Uh…the loo- the-the bathroom is just on the top left. Just climb up the stairs-”

“Okay.” Jaemin inched the plastic yellow bag towards Jeno, for him to keep it somewhere, while he freshened up himself. Jeno secured the bag over the only clean furniture in the house, the wooden chair.

Jaemin climbed up the stairs, and Jeno pointed out the direction again and then the celebrity disappeared behind the stairs. Jeno kept his gaze stilled on the empty space for a while, before hurriedly, going back and cleaning up the dining table from the rotten bananas, and half-eaten yogurt. Or was that mayonnaise? He couldn’t figure. With a yelp of disgust, he emptied the soggy pasta from two nights before on the sink and a stale soup, to went with it down the drain.

Arranging of what he could, with the plates and utensils on the dining table, he tried to cancel out the incongruous image of it from before. Not that, Jaemin would notice. As he did, Jaemin quietly descended down the stairs, then in a white suit, the v neck dangerously slit down to his stomach. His naked skin was enough for Jeno to stumble again, as some of the spoons fell out of his grip. He quickly retrieve himself, by straightening his back and gripping the handle of the chairs tight. Jaemin only looked at him impassively, before letting out a sigh.

“Uh-Right.” Jeno said suddenly, remembering he hadn’t offered anything for the guest to welcome him, “Do you want some tea?”

“No.”

“What about coffee? Or water?”

“No.”

Jeno padded towards the fridge, taking notice how Jaemin followed Jeno with a hint of a smile. He was making a fool of himself, relentlessly.

“How about something cold? Drinks?”

“No.”

“Right. Something to nibble on?” Jeno revealed a jar full of strawberries drenched in artificial strawberry syrup, some of them awfully rotten, “How about strawberries? Strawberries dipped in strawberry syrup? Which in my case,doesn’t make sense. If you want strawberries, just buy a strawberry. There is no need for it being plunged into strawberry syrup. Nevertheless, do you…”

“No.”

“Do you say ‘no’ to everything?”

Jaemin paused for a bit before mumbling, “Uh…no.” There was a pregnant pause before Jaemin continued, “I must go.”

“Right. Let me…” Jeno followed Jaemin to the front door, and for some reason they both stood still in the front porch, looking at each other inexplicably. Jeno cleared his throat and proceeded to bid his farewell.

“It was nice to meet you.” Jaemin looked at him, tightening his lips, “Surreal but nice.”

“Okay. Bye.” Jaemin said, as Jeno unlocked the door and opened the door ajar.

As Jaemin left, Jeno ruffled his own hair, in an act to tear it off as he fidgeted on his place upon the awkward, stupid sentence he just said. Surreal but nice, what was he even thinking? Just as he was about to go, the doorbell chimed again, and he rushed to open the door for the second time.

It was Jaemin yet again, still charming, and still with that commercial smile.

“Oh hi.” Jeno breathed, “Forgot something?”

“My bag.”

“Right.” Jeno walked towards the wooden chair, fetching the bags at once. He returned to the porch, and handed the bag over to her hand.

“Thanks.”

But the strange heaviness of the atmosphere that was served, was enough to make Jeno itch. Jaemin looked at him, those eyes of wonder and unimaginable beauty, the closeness in between them surging over, taking hold of the porch and that tiny apartment. Jaemin let out a breath, and in seconds of bewilderment and just utter disbelief, his hands were around Jeno’s shoulders, his soft lips against his. Jeno thought over it, as their lips met, squeezed together, he was kissing someone famous. Never in his whole life, he would have ever imagined it happening. The person in those plastic wrappers, newspapers, smiling behind the screen of small screened television was kissing him. Some normal man in the street of Notting Hill, with a garbage like apartment and a small unsuccessful bookshop. Jaemin, the famous superstar, was kissing him, Jeno.

As Jaemin slowly ripped himself off him, Jeno seized the chance of having a breath.

“Sorry-” Jeno said, carding his fingers through his hair, “For the ‘surreal but nice’ thing. A total disaster.”

“I thought the strawberry discourse was the total low point.” Jaemin laughed, and just as Jeno thought nothing could ever ruin that moment, fate bestowed them with the welcome of his little brother with rustles on the front door.

“I am so sorry. My little brother-”

The door opened and there came his brother dressed in the most ugliest pair of jeans ever, paired with a dusty green pullover. His hair, obviously tousled in along with bits of sprinkles, and his lips covered in smoke of cigars.

“Hi.” His brother said to Jaemin to which Jaemin reciprocated with a polite greeting. His brother staggered inside the apartment, totally ignoring the elephant in the room, which would be Jaemin.

“Probably, it would be best if you would keep today to yourself.” Jaemin said with a cock of his eyebrow.

“Yes, of course. I mean I will not tell anyone. I mean-I might tell myself from time to time, but then again I won’t believe it.”

“Bye.” Jaemin left, and Jeno still couldn’t believe the gap of his presence that he left. The strawberries or the books, or the kiss, he couldn’t believe nothing at all. It was like a dream, surreal but a really nice dream.

**Author's Note:**

> -it was the most fun i had writing a one shot after a long while. i watched the movie at least 4 times by now, and everytime it is like a new experience and a whole set of feelings, so i fell in love with the characters and spontaneously decided to make a writing out of it. i was inspired to make Jaemin someone like Anna Scott, decidedly after seeing that famous picture of Jaemin all dressed up in leather jacket and a stuzzy cap.
> 
> -comment if you've liked it and i will make sure to pray that you would someday meet someone like Anna Scott visiting your tiny bookshop.


End file.
